


your eager lips on a sunday's noon

by timber (calculus)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 5 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 15:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12750798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calculus/pseuds/timber
Summary: “You know, Wonwoo-ssi comes over the house a lot, right?”Soonyoung blinks, taken aback by the non sequitur. “Uh, yeah, sure, he’s my best friend. Of course he’ll stop by when he can?”“He doesn’t exactly live close to us—he’s not even in the same district—but he’s like over three times a week when you’re on break,” Eunso says pointedly, like Soonyoung should be seeing whatever she’s trying to insinuate. He runs a hand through his hair and scratches his scalp.“Yeah, so? I can’t hang out with my friends now, is that the problem?” he asks, a little defensive and not knowing why.Eunso hums, like she’s trying to placate an angry small child. Then, she rips the metaphorical bandage off with her next question. “You ever think the reason why you’re still single has something to do with your best friend?”-Or, living in complacency about a relationship you've had since childhood doesn't always turn out how you expect it.





	your eager lips on a sunday's noon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [historiologies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/historiologies/gifts), [thelaziesthufflepuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelaziesthufflepuff/gifts).



> i called this the 'i didn't realize we were dating until you kissed me' fic except the outline developed way beyond that so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The night is just deepening into navy blue as Soonyoung walks towards the subway station, hands in his slacks pockets, sticky humidity traded in for a milder, cooler breeze. The lights are bright and glaring, restaurant signs and neon blinkers trying to attract patronage, but Soonyoung ignores it with ease, more preoccupied with getting home as fast as possible before his date finds him.

His phone buzzes in his blazer pocket while he’s waiting at a stoplight, and Soonyoung grimaces when it goes off again five more times, unrelenting and ominous. The light turns green just as the buzzing stops, and Soonyoung takes off, weaving quickly through the crowd of night-goers, praying that’s the end of it. Instead, the house beats of SHINee’s View starts playing from his body, and Soonyoung groans aloud, caught. He pulls out the phone with a scowl, and swipes left to answer the call, the grinning profile picture of his sister taunting him.

“Before you start tearing into me, I just wanna say that in my defense, I did tell you I didn’t want to go on this date,” Soonyoung blurts out once the call connects, hoping to get the first word in.

“All I’m saying is, sleep with one eye open when you come home for break,” says Eunso without missing a beat, sounding mercifully amused instead of truly angry. Soonyoung exhales a gust of relief, and Eunso laughs, hearing the burst of static through the line. “Relax, Soonyoungie, it’s okay. I do know you and your weird aversion to blind dates, so I warned her beforehand that you might bail.”

“Noona, please, character assassination, really?” he complains, and Eunso snorts.

“I’m not the one who literally just walked out on a blind date without so much as a courtesy text to the other party,” she says evenly, and Soonyoung winces, sidestepping a gaggle of university students out on a night romp. “You don’t really get to say anything here.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Soonyoung chews on his lip for a minute, thinking about how to word his next question.

“Out with it, dumbass, I can hear the wheels clicking in your head,” Eunso says calmly, and Soonyoung nods, forgetting she can’t actually see him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Is there a reason why you’ve been so gung-ho lately with setting me up on dates?” he asks slowly, catching sight of the escalators to the subway station and speeding up his steps. “I know I’ve been complaining about not having a relationship a little much, but—”

“ _A little_ is mentioning it maybe three times in a off-hand conversation. You’ve spent the entire _summer_ moaning about being single and having no one to mingle with,” Eunso interrupts, impatient, and Soonyoung purses his lips. “Even my friends know how single you are, just by osmosis because you won’t shut up about it on social media. Incidentally, today’s blind date was a _pity date_ because Hyemi felt sorry for your shitty ass.”

“Ouch. That’s not harsh at all.”

Eunso snorts, and Soonyoung can tell that she’s rolling her eyes at him on the other line. “You need a wake-up call, honey. I can’t keep coddling you like this forever, y’know?” She takes a breath, and Soonyoung braces himself. There’s something she’s not saying, despite her dressing-down, and it’s picking at his brain to be asked about.

“...There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“Okay. Yes.” Eunso sucks in air, audible on the line, and Soonyoung, just a few meters away from the station, stops and removes himself from the main path. This feels like something big is about to be revealed, and he can feel the hair on his arms standing up just from the suspense. “You know, Wonwoo-ssi comes over the house a lot, right?”

Soonyoung blinks, taken aback by the non sequitur. “Uh, yeah, sure, he’s my best friend. Of course he’ll stop by when he can?”

“He doesn’t exactly live close to us—he’s not even in the same district—but he’s like over three times a week when you’re on break,” Eunso says pointedly, like Soonyoung should be seeing whatever she’s trying to insinuate. He runs a hand through his hair and scratches his scalp.

“Yeah, so? I can’t hang out with my friends now, is that the problem?” he asks, a little defensive and not knowing why.

Eunso hums, like she’s trying to placate an angry small child. Then, she rips the metaphorical bandage off with her next question. “You ever think the reason why you’re still single has something to do with your best friend?”

“What? What do you mean?” Soonyoung blurts out, blinking rapid and not sure why his heartbeat’s suddenly revved up three times faster. He ignores the curious stares of passing-by pedestrians and places a hand over his chest in an attempt to calm himself down. “What does Wonwoo have anything to do with me being single?”

“Soonyoung-ah, I came home just last month, and he was all over you on your _bed_. You guys were—well, it was a little much, okay.”

Soonyoung squawks, hand flying to his hair to grip at for some sort of tangible support. “We were play-fighting! We’ve been doing this since we were seven, noona, please! He knocked me off the fucking Rainbow Road! What was I supposed to do?”

“Uh, not have him sit in your lap like he’s maybe five seconds away from making out with your entire face?” Eunso says drily. Soonyoung splutters, at a loss for words. “He looked _very_ happy for someone who’s supposed to be ‘fighting’ you. In that cat-got-the-cream kind of way.”

“I was literally strangling him with my bare hands, noona, what the _fuck_ are you trying to say?”

“So the kid’s got some masochistic kink; it’s not like you don’t get off on some sick sort of humiliation play,” Eunso says casually, like Soonyoung isn’t about to combust from the combination of raging embarrassment and frustration. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean. I know about the DVDs you have hiding behind your old calc textbooks.”

“One, please never talk about that again. Two, _what the fuck? _Noona, I think you’re getting off-topic, but honestly, I will go on as many blind dates as you want me to if you literally never talk to me about this ever again,” Soonyoung begs, covering his undoubtedly magenta cheeks with a palm.__

“That’s not what I’m trying to do, Soon-ah, come on,” Eunso tries, annoyed, but Soonyoung just blocks her out with a tuneless chant.

“Shut up shut up shut up shut up—”

“Okay—oka—yah! Yah!” Soonyoung stops. “Okay, you turdface, I’ll shut up about it. God. See if I ever try and help you with your relationships ever again.”

“I’ve literally never asked, but thank you,” Soonyoung mutters darkly, and Eunso clicks her teeth.

“Whatever, idiot, it’s your funeral. Anyway, Luna says she’s free on Sunday if you wanna go out for coffee, so if you even think about standing her up—”

“I get it, I get it, yeesh.”

There’s a satisfied beat of silence, and Soonyoung finally peeks out between his fingers, cautiously assuming the storm has finally passed.

“But, if you just talk to Won—”

“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP—”

* * *

The summer right before junior year of university started up, Soonyoung gets called out to meet Wonwoo in front of his favorite bingsu cafe in Hongdae. The streets are crowded with tourists and twenty-somethings, and the sun is high enough that the humidity sticks to him, heat sweltering. He fans himself with a lazy hand, shades his eyes with a palm, and hopes fervently that Wonwoo arrives before he sweats through his shirt and has to spend the rest of the day with pit stains. Again. While he waits, he blows a breath up, fluttering his bangs out, and he picks a small section to consider; he’s probably overdue for a haircut, but he thinks he can stretch it out another month before he gets annoyed enough to chop it off.

Wonwoo somehow scutters to him without registering in his peripheral, his tall body blending in the sea of people milling on the streets. He turns and jumps, Wonwoo’s face within centimeters away from his own, and Wonwoo’s expression breaks into laughter, bright and loud.

“God, it’s only been two months and I already never want to see your face again,” Soonyoung complains, pushing him away with a palm, cheeks pink. Wonwoo just snickers, and Soonyoung balls up a fist to feint a punch at his head, which Wonwoo parries away with a lazy hand. His hand is cool, a contrast to the rest of the sticky heat, and Soonyoung almost wants to press it to his own forehead. Instead, he makes a face at Wonwoo and swivels on his heels and enters the cafe.

“Uh-huh, and I totally didn’t get fifteen separate KKTs from you whining about how bored you’ve been without me,” Wonwoo says, following behind. Soonyoung ignores him and stands in queue to order.

The line isn’t particularly long, Wonwoo having picked the awkward time right between lunch and afternoon, so Soonyoung at least won’t have to wait long to shovel his face with cold shaved ice. He feels pressure on his shoulder, the dig of Wonwoo’s bony body and the heat from his back, and he shifts his head just enough to look at Wonwoo’s grinning face, using him as a chin rest. Soonyoung rolls his eyes, but lets him, even though he’s still sticky from the outside heat, and flicks lazily at Wonwoo’s face with an index finger.

“Don’t act cute, Wonwoo-ssi, we all know the truth,” he drawls. Wonwoo scrunches his nose at that, round-rimmed glasses pressing up for emphasis, and mouth drawn up in a moue and Soonyoung has to bite back the twitch of his own lips because it really _is_ that cute. His heart skips a beat anyway, and Soonyoung looks away, turning up his nose for pronounced disinterest.

“Rude, I’m always cute. Don’t be a hater, Soonyoung-ah, it’s not a good look on you,” Wonwoo says, mock-pouting. “Anyway, get the strawberry bingsu with me. I’ve been craving strawberry ice cream for the past two weeks.”

“Oh gee, that must’ve been such a hardship for you,” Soonyoung says, smirking, reaching over to tweak at Wonwoo’s nose. “Too bad I’m getting the chocolate bingsu; you’ll just have to eat yours all by yourself.”

Wonwoo gives him a real pout this time, pulling his lips upward for an exaggerated purse, and Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Aw, Soonyoungie, please? For your best-best-best friend in the whole world?”

“You didn’t invite Seokmin to the party,” Soonyoung says dryly, and snickers when Wonwoo pushes him, pulling away with a scowl. “I’d gladly share any flavor with Lee Seokmin, my truest and oldest friend in this universe.”

“Wow, I guess I’m on the market for a new best friend now that I’ve been so cruelly dumped,” Wonwoo snarks, holding out his hands in an exaggerated shrug. “And here I was so excited to tell you that I had a surprise for you, but I guess that’ll have to go to my new buddy.”

Soonyoung isn’t ashamed to say his ears perk up at that, even though he’s sure Wonwoo’s probably messing with him; a surprise is a surprise, after all. He latches onto Wonwoo’s arm with his cheesiest grin and bats his eyes at him. Wonwoo stares at him, unimpressed, but he can see the corners of his mouth twitching, and Soonyoung just beams brighter in response.

“Wonwoo-yah, you know you’re my bestest friend in the whole galaxy, right? I love you the most,” he simpers, elongating his vowels for extra aegyo. Wonwoo gives him a look, nostrils flared with judgment, but then breaks into snickers, pushing Soonyoung to the counter. “You know, right? Right?”

“Get me my strawberry bingsu and then, we can talk,” Wonwoo orders imperiously, nudging him with a shoulder. He nods off to the stairs, and grabs the indicator that the cashier slides over. “I’ll grab us a table upstairs.”

Soonyoung waves him off and rattles off his order, picking the extra large serving because if he’s gonna be sharing with the blackhole stomach that is Jeon Wonwoo, he wants to at least be able to eat enough to actually enjoy the dessert. To offset the sweet, he gets them both coffees, a sugary milky concoction and a tamer Americano for them to switch off, and pays, fastidiously counting out the remainder bills in his wallet. He’ll have to stop eating out for a while until he starts back up his shifts at the dance studio. Then he lopes up the stairs, two at a time, with the thought of Wonwoo’s surprise in mind.

He finds Wonwoo curled up in the far-off corner table by the wide windows, narrowly avoiding the bright stripe of sunlight bisecting the room, and squeezes himself past the small occupied tables littering around to reach the smiling boy. Soonyoung ignores the immediate flutter of his stomach at the smile that Wonwoo aims at him, and takes the seat across.

“So what’s the big deal? Did you win the lottery or something?” Soonyoung asks, propping his arms on the table. Wonwoo waggles his brows and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with extra flair. “Did you get laid over the summer, is that it? Finally got your dick sucked?”

“You think I’m the kind of the person who’d come running to rub it in my friend’s face right after I get laid?” Wonwoo deadpans, blinking slow at him with something akin to disappointment. Soonyoung just shrugs, unapologetic. “I’m not you, Soonyoung-ah, I actually like to keep things to myself.”

“I don’t hear you complaining when you’re listening to my sordid tales,” Soonyoung says, sticking his tongue out. “Can I help it if my life is just that interesting and drama-like?” Wonwoo rubs his hands down his face, and mutters into his palms. “What was that?”

“I _said_ , no one wants to hear about the time you got your dick caught in your jean zipper trying to get a fucking blowjob in the middle of a bathroom stall,” Wonwoo enunciates, rolling his eyes. Soonyoung points his index finger at him, aiming with an exaggerated wink.

“Ah, but it’s solid life advice for what not to do, right?” Wonwoo says nothing, and Soonyoung laughs it off, waving his hand. “Anyway, get to the point, Jeon Wonwoo-ssi. What do you have for me?”

Wonwoo grins, smothering it with the flat press of his palm, but reaches into his pants pocket hidden by the table-top. Soonyoung watches him avid, half-waiting for the other shoe to drop, and as Wonwoo pulls out a finger heart, Soonyoung stands up to leave. Wonwoo bursts out laughing and reaches out to drag Soonyoung back down, giggling in the face of Soonyoung’s dead eyes.

“Okay, okay, for real this time,” Wonwoo promises, and Soonyoung crosses his arms in a mock-huff, turning his nose up. “Seriously, I promise.”

“I don’t know why I keep believing you,” he complains, pouting. “It’s not like it’ll be any different the second—holy fuck are those SHINee tickets—are they—yah, Jeon Wonwoo.” Soonyoung laughs out a breath, incredulous and eyes trained on the slips of paper pinched between Wonwoo’s fingers. “Yah, are you playing with me right now? I will actually leave this table right now and never speak to you again if this is a joke.”

Wonwoo coughs and holds out his free hand. Soonyoung stares at it blankly, flickering his gaze between the lined palm and the mythical concert tickets that he’d been trying to get hold of since SHINee had announced their tour, unable to tear his attention away, and Wonwoo sighs. “Give me your hand, dumbass.” He doesn’t move, and Wonwoo sighs again, rolling his eyes and getting up from his seat to sit in the chair right next to Soonyoung. His arm is grabbed and turned palm-up as Wonwoo gently lays the tickets down, curling his fingers in around them.

“I want you to know that I am seconds away from kissing you, and if you don’t want this to escalate, you should get out of the way right now,” Soonyoung says seriously, eyes glued on the printed text in his hand. He thinks Wonwoo says something, can feel cool fingers tighten around his own, but everything is white noise to the settling shock of holding actual tickets to the goddamn concert tour that had been escaping his grasp since it’d been first announced.

He feels something brush his cheek, and looks up dumbly to Wonwoo’s face, breaths away, nervous smile on his face and lips moving. Soonyoung blinks and leans back, watching as Wonwoo’s expression falters and wobbles. He says something again, but all Soonyoung can make out is a form of a question, and he thinks Wonwoo will probably laugh at him if he admits he’s possibly straddling the line of passing out from shock, so he just nods helplessly, praying it’s the right answer. Wonwoo’s face blooms, suddenly radiant and bright with the smile stretching across his face, and deep inside himself, Soonyoung thinks quietly, _Uh oh._

The order pager rattles just then, as though having heard Soonyoung’s sudden panic, and Soonyoung scrambles out of his seat to grab it and runs off with the excuse of getting their order. Wonwoo calls after him, but he charges down the stairs without waiting, too set on exiting the situation and re-establishing equilibrium. The tickets he takes with him, crumpling in his clenched hands.

* * *

The semester starts off the same as every other semester: a pickup basketball game that Soonyoung, Seungcheol and Hansol set up because it’s the agreed-upon way to see everyone again before the influx of classes kick in, and they get to kick each others’ asses, reaffirming friendships. They pick a bright, sunny Tuesday when mostly everyone is back on campus and stake out one of the university courtyards, a gaggle of twelve plus boys tying up sneakers and hydrating beforehand.

Usually, it takes Soonyoung at least four tries to even get Wonwoo to consider coming out from his cave, especially in the heat of late summer transitioning into autumn, but Wonwoo had gamely agreed before Soonyoung even had to bring up his usual bribing suspects. At the moment, he’s tying his laces, pasty chicken legs out and bright for everyone to see, chatting absent-mindedly with Hansol and Minghao, and Soonyoung watches him for a moment, distracted, before Seokmin draws him back into the conversation with a jab.

“You ready to get crushed by our winning team, hyung-nim?” he asks with a cheeky smile, eyes crinkling. Soonyoung snorts and pushes him back with a neat elbow. Seungkwan, seated on the green-painted asphalt beside him, finishes stretching out his leg before standing up with an equally devious smile.

“How about a bet, hyung? You up for it?” Soonyoung squints, and Seungkwan’s face grows even more devious, eyes twinkling. “Dongsaeng-deul versus hyung-deul, best two out of three, and winners get to treat losers for the whole week.”

“You’re out of your mind, Boo-eun-ssi,” Soonyoung says immediately, straightening. “No way in hell we pay for your meals for a straight week. Do you know how much you eat? And you wanna add the rest of blackhole central in this?”

“First of all, I’m gonna slap you, hyung or not, if you keep calling me that,” Seungkwan snaps, jabbing his index finger in Soonyoung’s direction with a glare. Soonyoung smirks and wiggles his own fingers for a flirty wave. “Second of all, are you saying you’re scared because I’m just as willing to accept your defeat right now.”

Soonyoung opens his mouth for a scathing answer, but he feels the sudden loop of someone’s arms cross his neck, a sudden weight on his frame, and he half-turns with a jump. Wonwoo’s draped himself over Soonyoung like a blanket, easy expression on his sharp cheekbones, and he smiles as Soonyoung meets his creased eyes. It translates into something heavy in Soonyoung’s gut, sinks like a stone while he struggles to smile back, reaction time a quarter-second too slow.

“What’s this about a challenge?” Wonwoo asks, propping his chin on his arm and breaking his stare with Soonyoung to raise brows at Seungkwan and Seokmin. “Are we being irresponsible adults again?”

“Only if you lose,” Seokmin quips, slinging an arm over Seungkwan’s shoulders, eye-smile in full effect. He nods over to Seungcheol, Jisoo, and Jeonghan, heavy in discussion over game rules before looking back with a conspiratorial wink. “I’m sure our esteemed hyungs are still young and spry enough to kick it with us fetuses.”

“I hear your blatant smack-talk, Lee Seokmin, and I want you to know that I will crush you like the helpless woodland creature that you are with glee,” Jeonghan calls out, not even bothering to turn his head around. Seokmin cackles and runs away, grabbing hold of Mingyu to use as a body shield.

“But, hyung, I don’t even get paid until next week!” Soonyoung complains, leaning into the comfort of Wonwoo’s embrace. “I can’t afford to pay for six blackhole stomachs! Mingyu ate almost ￦200,000’s worth of ribs just by himself the last time we went out for dinner!” Wonwoo laughs quiet, tickling the short hairs of his neck, and Soonyoung has to hold back the shiver threatening to run over his body.

Jihoon brushes himself off and stands up with a sigh, eyes assessing their newly-dubbed enemies, and looks at Soonyoung with a long-suffering expression. “I hope you know that if we lose this game, I will never forgive you and possibly wake you up in the middle of the night in the near future just to kick you in the nuts.”

Wonwoo huffs another laugh and whispers low in Soonyoung’s ear, “Then we best win this game, huh. Gotta keep those babies working right.”

At this, Soonyoung does give in to the shiver that races through him and immediately elbows Wonwoo away, furiously rubbing at his burning ears. “This is sexual harassment, asshole, I’m gonna kick your ass for this.”

“Guys, please, do your weird courtship rituals at another time,” Jihoon complains, grabbing the basketball from his duffel bag and dribbling it to the mid-court line. “My checking balance is on the line here.”

Soonyoung blushes, and turns his head so that he doesn’t see Wonwoo’s smirking face, running to take point over a cheery Hansol. “Whatever, tell Wonwoo that, not me! I’m the victim here, Jihoonie,” he says plaintively, doing a last-minute arm stretch.

“No, _we_ are,” he thinks he hears Minghao mutter, but Soonyoung ignores it for the ball in Jihoon’s hand, casually tossed between him and Seokmin before Jihoon takes its and starts the game.

They fight relentless for points the first game, stealing and dribbling the ball with slick maneuvers that feel like a bit of a waste when they tally up the points at the end of the round, gasping for breath and sweating through their shirts. It’s a tie, a frustrated groan reverberating through the twelve-boy huddle as the score is revealed, and half of them plop to the floor with a slap.

“You know, this really wasn’t how I envisioned my morning going when I got out the door this morning,” Soonyoung puffs out, sweat dripping down his forehead and neck like he’s been cooking in a sauna for the past thirty minutes. He wipes it off as best as he can with his t-shirt, but his hair is plastered to his head at this point; no amount of dabbing will help.

“Really? Because it’s pretty much how I thought my day was gonna go when I heard the words ‘basketball game’ in 30-degree weather,” says Wonwoo, panting for breath. Soonyoung flicks his sweat at him with a sneer, and Wonwoo lets him, unfazed. He drops his head down between his shoulders, arms propped up behind him to keep him upright and eyes squeezed shut against the glare of the sun, and Soonyoung watches from the corner of his eyes, tracing the curve of his throat with a casual glance.

“I’m ready to call it quits and pay for everyone’s meals right now,” pipes Jeonghan, pillowed on Mingyu’s crossed legs, body limp on the hot asphalt. “How about we all agree to call a truce and just split lunch evenly?”

Seungkwan sputters a laugh, half-wheezing, and pushes himself off Seokmin’s hunched back, pointing at Jeonghan with an accusing finger. “Hey, I know what you’re doing, and I won’t stand for it, hyung! No cheating your way out of this bet!”

“Yeah, where is the Yoon Jeonghan who promised to destroy me just a few minutes ago?” Seokmin says, snickering. Jeonghan waves a lazy hand, snuggling further into Mingyu’s lap while Mingyu just rolls his eyes.

“He remembered he’s actually an eighty-year-old man with better things to do, like watch his backlog of Running Man episodes in an air-controlled room,” Jeonghan says, muffled, and Mingyu laughs, mushing a hand into his sweaty hair. Jeonghan squawks and half-heartedly bats him away.

Seungcheol chugs another half-bottle of water before closing it and tossing back in the vicinity of their bags. Then he hops off the floor and stands over the rest of them, arms propped on his hips. Jihoon, right next to him, stares up and then shares a deadpan look with the rest of them; Soonyoung feels a particular kinship.

“Okay, I’m ready for round two, guys. Let’s go, everyone, time to put your money where your mouth is.” He pauses, considering his words. “Possibly literally if you end up losing.”

“Yeah, guys, come on. We can still win this,” Junhui chirps, cheery despite the heat. Jihoon makes a dying noise, and tosses his water bottle at him. “Seriously, we can’t let these kids beat us now; we gotta prove we’re still just as strong and capable as them sprouts!”

“You realize they’re only like one to two years younger than us, right?” Wonwoo deadpans, pulling himself back upright and shaking out his arms. He pulls at his t-shirt, making a face at the way it clings to his skin, and rips it off with one swift pull, revealing a white tank underneath. Soonyoung just barely manages to hold back the spit-take that threatens when he focuses on Wonwoo’s bared arms and shoulders, but it’s not enough to keep him from coughing out the water from his ill-timed sip.

He hacks unattractively, hunching into himself as his lungs protest the uninvited ingestion, and Junhui thumps him a couple of times on the back for good measure. When he feels steady enough, he bats away Junhui’s arm and looks up, blinking back tears from his eyes and massaging his throat. Wonwoo stares back with a raised brow, propping his cheek against a fist, elbow on his knee, and taut muscle on display. It’s a lot to take in, but worst of all is the smug grin on his face, growing wider by the second.

“You act like you’ve never seen me take a shirt off before,” Wonwoo teases, dropping his arm down, and Soonyoung’s eyes can’t help but follow its fall, tracking smooth skin and the slow flex of his biceps. “Should I be flattered?”

Soonyoung doesn’t sputter, but only by sheer willpower. Instead, he gives Wonwoo a deliberate slow blink and croaks, “I forgot how much of a noodle boy you were.”

Wonwoo pouts and leans forward on his knees, bracing his arms against the asphalt for balance, and Soonyoung feels his heart thump heavy and sudden. He keeps his eyes focused on Wonwoo’s face, not willing to let himself look downward. “At least tell me I look nice, Soon-ah. I put a lot of work into bulking up this summer, just to impress.”

“Literally nothing is impressive about being a limp noodle.”

 

(Jihoon rubs his temple while the rest of them watch the two boys flirt, half amused and half bewildered. Seungcheol in particular seems chuffed, unable to stop grinning.

“Are we gonna be able to actually continue, or should we just pack up now?” Minghao muses, idly watching as Soonyoung blooms pink at Wonwoo’s closing distance and coy smile. Hansol, huddled beside him, just rocks on his heels with a hum.

“I vote we just leave them here and get lunch,” Seungkwan says. Jeonghan shoots up from his sprawl and runs for his bags.

“Shot not paying!”)

* * *

Friday evening after everyone’s exams are finished, they meet at one of the bar spaces in Hongdae, a proper dive bar with dark lights and a pool table squished down the hall. Seungcheol gets there first with Jeonghan and Jisoo, ever the reliable hyung trio, and the rest of them trickle in like truants, Soonyoung and Wonwoo almost the last of the bunch because Wonwoo almost couldn’t be dragged away from his computer game. But once they’d left the house, Wonwoo had glommed onto Soonyoung like a leech and hasn’t let go since.

It’s the twilight zone, clearly, and Soonyoung has somehow managed to slip through into the alternate dimension. There’s no other explanation for what’s going on. There can’t be. He looks around at his friends, but no one seems any bit bothered by the clingy octopus that’s replaced his best friend just shy of sitting in his lap.

Wonwoo pokes him in the ribs, chin resting on his shoulder like it’s been since they’d sat down an hour ago and ordered the first round of beers for everyone, and Soonyoung jumps. “What’s got you so on edge today? I thought you’d be excited to get hammered?”

Soonyoung swallows and glances down at the arm Wonwoo has wrapped around his waist, a comfortable and familiar weight, but unfamiliar in the amount of affection and fondness it accompanies with every look Wonwoo gives. He swallows again and forces a smile, looking down at his empty beer bottle rolling between his palms.

“Yeah, uh, I just remembered I gotta go in tomorrow to see my boss about back-pay and maybe ask for a raise, so I can’t, uh, get fucked up like we said we would,” he hedges. Wonwoo hums quietly in response, ducking his face in and nosing him at the base of Soonyoung’s neck. Soonyoung blushes: he knows it from the way his cheeks burn hot red, but he prays the dim smoked-out lights of the bar will be enough to leave him with some dignity.

Seungkwan tosses back his wine with the irreverence only a broke college student could have and boos him. Soonyoung rolls his eyes and waves it off with a smile, but the others join Seungkwan, throwing out smack talk and loud jeers.

“Come on, hyung, you’ve been moaning and moaning about your tests for over a month now! Let loose a little! We’re finished, we don’t have class tomorrow, just go into work with a hangover like every other twenty-year-old,” Seokmin coaxes, eye smile looking devious, and Soonyoung makes a face.

“Can’t you just let me attempt to be a responsible adult, man, come on,” he pleads, and Seokmin wags a dramatic finger with a wide smile.

“Not today, my good friend. Today, we’re doing _shots_!” As if on cue, Mingyu appears at their table with a full tray of shot glasses, a full bottle of mid-shelf tequila, a bowl of limes and a salt shaker. Their table as one cheers while Soonyoung groans into his hands, drowned out by the enthusiasm of his friends. Wonwoo chuckles beside him, and Soonyoung pushes him without even looking, wishing for a little more sympathy.

“Okay, two shots a person, be careful with the shot glasses—you drop another shot glass again, Wen Junhui, and I will literally leave you to die in this bar—and you’re all paying the next two rounds,” Mingyu calls out, handing shot glasses to everyone. Minghao stands up and helpfully grabs the tequila before it tumbles over the tray Mingyu has precariously balanced on one hand. Soonyoung tries to hand off the glasses being pushed his way, but Seokmin firmly places them in front of him with a decisive clack and a stern look.

“You’re not escaping this so easily, hyung,” he says and reaches over to give him a pat on the shoulder. “Just take your lumps like a man.”

“You make it sound like I’m gonna get the shit kicked out of me,” Soonyoung mutters as Minghao pours a straight line of tequila down everyone’s shot glasses. Junhui helpfully distributes the limes across the table, and Soonyoung pouts when his wedge is placed next to his glass without even waiting for his go-ahead.

Wonwoo squeezes Soonyoung’s waist for a moment and then pulls away enough that he can look at Soonyoung in the eye without Soonyoung feeling he’s maybe five centimeters away from being a victim of an accidental kiss. Wonwoo gives him a soft smile and reaches up with his free hand to adjust the front bangs hanging over Soonyoung’s face. He leans in, and Soonyoung has to hold himself still as Wonwoo presses their foreheads together, a sudden intimacy incongruous with the rest of their rowdy table. He darts his eyes to see if anyone else is watching this, feeling extremely exposed, but Wonwoo grabs his attention easily with a flick to the nose.

“Hey, if you really don’t want to drink, you don’t have to, okay?” he says gently, making sure Soonyoung follows his words. “I’ll drink for you.”

“You know you’re like the third-biggest lightweight out of all of us after Hansol and Jihoon right? I’m gonna have to _carry_ you back like a sack of potatoes, and you are not the lightest body in the world,” Soonyoung whispers, taken aback. Wonwoo rolls his eyes and pinches him in the ribs.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to be gentle with my body when we go home tonight,” Wonwoo says casually, before sliding Soonyoung’s shot glass over to his side and stealing his lime wedges while Soonyoung sputters, flustered.

“Ooooh, is that Jeon Wonwoo I see black-knighting for you, Soonyoungie,” Jeonghan says, propping his head on top of Seungcheol’s shoulder to waggle brows at them. 

“You know this means you owe him your ass right, hyung?” says Minghao, smirking as he sits back down, scooting in to make room for Mingyu to take his seat as well. Soonyoung makes a face at him and tries to reach over and swat at him, but Wonwoo’s arm keeps him from getting up, like a warm brand.

“A) Shut up, I owe no one my ass, and B) shut up, fine, I’ll fucking drink—”

“Too late, Wonwoo-hyung’s already finished both his shots,” Seungkwan points out with a grin as Wonwoo makes a face and sucks at his lime wedges to chase the tequila. The table cheers and follows suit, licking salt off their hands and knocking back glasses one by one. Minghao and Jisoo, the only abstainers, grin and raise their glasses of coke and virgin Shirley Temples, respectively, at Soonyoung who just groans and drops his face into an open palm.

“Alright, everyone,” cheers Seungcheol, slamming down his shot glass with fervor. “Let’s get turned up!”

Jihoon deadpans as he reaches over to snag an open bottle of beer in the middle of the table, “Only if you agree never to say those words in your life ever again.”

 

Soonyoung can count on one hand the times he’s had to drag Wonwoo’s limp body home: the one time he got an almost-concussion in middle school, trying out for the baseball team and got brained with a fastball instead; the time he stepped in the middle of a fight between a sunbae picking on Soonyoung and got tossed around like a ragdoll after his initial shocking punch; and the day he got the acceptance letter from Konkuk and came running through the school halls just to jump onto Soonyoung’s back and be piggybacked home. Soonyoung still likes to bring up his aching backache whenever Wonwoo gets extra annoying and won’t stop needling him.

Now, he has finger number four to add onto the list as he tries his best to shuffle down the street with sixty-five kilograms of dead weight hanging onto him while profusely apologizing to judging pedestrians for the spectacle. As if on a mission to make Soonyoung’s life even harder, Wonwoo just slumps further into him, arm curled around his neck almost cutting off his air supply, and starts mumbling. Soonyoung takes a moment to look up in askance at whatever higher being is out there, and curses their friends for leaving him all alone with Wonwoo.

“I’m literally never going drinking with your sorry ass ever again,” he mutters as he hauls Wonwoo along, fingers digging into bony ribs for grip as Wonwoo tries to slide out like a slippery eel.

“That’s—that’s a lie right there,” Wonwoo says, carefully articulating each syllable. He blinks at Soonyoung, dazed and slow, legs like soft jelly.

“Nope, that’s a promise, actually. Never fucking again,” Soonyoung snipes, yelping when Wonwoo starts tilting away from his grip, and scrambles to grab onto his torso before his entire body topples over. “ _Fuck_ , seriously, fuck!”

“Not right now, Soonyoung-ah, my head’s spinning too much,” Wonwoo says, face frowning in confusion.

“Who told you to drink all those shots then, dumbass? It certainly wasn’t me!”

“Shhh, you’re too loud, Soonyoung-ah, shhhh,” Wonwoo hushes him with a finger, almost jabbing it up Soonyoung’s nostril, and he bats Wonwoo away with a growl. “We can fuck in the morning, okay? Shhhh.”

“F-fuck—we— _I’m_ not drunk enough for this,” Soonyoung sputters, and Wonwoo laughs, flopping his body and arms into a noodly embrace, circling Soonyoung’s neck and bringing his head in until he can feel the puff of Wonwoo’s warm breath against his skin.

“You’re not allowed to be drunk, remember?” Wonwoo says, precise and enunciated in the way only drunk Wonwoo is. The soft smile on his face is new, though, achingly fond and incongruous with how extremely annoying Soonyoung had found him not two seconds ago. “You have to—have to… go to the thing. The thing tomorrow.” He furrows his brows, searching for the proper word.

Soonyoung sighs and places his hands around Wonwoo’s waist to hold him steady. They’re stopped in the middle of the street, but it’s late enough that they’re at least not blocking foot traffic. Still, the disapproving stares from the stray pedestrians makes Soonyoung wish Wonwoo had chosen to do this at a less-populated area.

Wonwoo makes a noise, a sudden gasp, and Soonyoung looks at him with resigned amusement. His face is bright with wonder, and Wonwoo decides to share it with Soonyoung by smushing his warm palms against Soonyoung’s cheeks, dragging his face in even closer.

“Your thing is the job. You have a job thing. That thing,” says Wonwoo proudly, and his smile is infectious enough to reach Soonyoung’s own lips. “So I drank for you. You have the job, so you can’t be drunk.”

“You drank for—oh my god, Wonwoo, you giant idiot. You drank almost half your body weight in liquor!”

Wonwoo frowns and smushes Soonyoung’s cheeks further, as if it’ll make Soonyoung’s frustration go away. “Shhh, don’t be mad, Soonyoung-ah. Smile: you look prettier when you smile.”

“I can’t when you’re squishing my face to death,” Soonyoung snarks, voice muffled, ignoring everything else Wonwoo said. Drunk Wonwoo can’t be held responsible for the nonsense he says, clearly. Wonwoo tilts his head and stares at him for a moment.

“I want a kiss.”

“The fuck.”

“I want a kiss,” Wonwoo repeats himself, doe-eyed all of a sudden, and Soonyoung wonders what kind of horrific karma did he have in a past life to deserve this right now. His heart, the traitor, skips a beat, though. “Let’s kiss right now.”

Soonyoung pries Wonwoo’s hands off his face with difficulty, but Wonwoo lets go in the end with a huff, looping back his arms around his neck instead. “How about I get you home instead and we forget all about this in the morning, hm? Because I know sober you is sure as hell not gonna wanna remember this.”

“Why not? Sober me wants to kiss you too,” Wonwoo says with a pout, leaning in slowly. Soonyoung leans away just as slow.

“Uh, well, one, you’re not sober, you’re drunk, so automatically, that’s a no. And two, um, you don’t want to kiss me, Wonwoo-yah, what the hell.”

“You’re wrong,” Wonwoo replies, loudly and with a frown. “You’re wrong. I always want to kiss you. You’re Soonyoung—how can I not want to kiss you?”

 _He’s drunk, he’s drunk, he’s drunk,_ Soonyoung repeats to himself, but the rationalization doesn’t stop his stomach from fluttering, the drum of his heart a mile a minute and the rush of heat racing through his body all dizzying, like he’s suddenly drunk too. Nothing Wonwoo says can be taken at face value, not when he _knows_ the boy’s not really conscious of what he’s saying, but. But.

“How can I not want to kiss you,” Wonwoo says again, sweet and low, and this time when he leans in, Soonyoung stays put. He feels the rush of hot air against his cheeks, sees Wonwoo’s face swim into and out of focus, and Soonyoung slips his eyes close, nerves singing.

There’s a brush of warmth against his lips, the whisper of soft skin, and—

Wonwoo throws up on him.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS EONS LATE AND ITS NOT EVEN FINISHED AND IM SORRY FOR ME IM SO SORRY BUT HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY CAT I'M SO SORRY YOU GET THIS MESS FROM ME T_T_T__T_T
> 
> but also happy birthday in advance 2 hongwen bc i promise i'll get this done by the time it hits ur birthday!!!!!!
> 
> anyway ilu guys !!!


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